Mary Watson And The Departed Doctor

by Fred Thursfield

  Although no approved therapeutics are currently based on ricin, it has been shown to have the potential to be used in the treatment of tumours, as a so-called “magic bullet” to destroy targeted cells.

  Again Ricin is a toxic substance found naturally in castor beans. If castor beans are chewed and swallowed, the released poison can cause injury.

  I cannot attest as to the accuracy or reliability of the information I am about to pass onto you Mrs. Watson concerning one particular manufacturer of this toxic substance. It is based solely on conversations I came to hear from the returning sick and wounded Allied soldiers who were in my care.

  The men repeatedly spoke of seeing, as they over ran the German trenches in Ypres was a company name stencilled in white letters on the sides of empty wooden crates that the gas shells or canisters had been delivered to the trenches in... the name was Metzger Chemische.

  Chapter 21

  The Great War exacted a terrible toll on all the nations who had been involved in the global conflict. None was greater than the toll that had been inflicted on one particular city of the German nation.

  ***

  The city of Dresden is located in a valley on the River Elbe, near the Czechoslovakian border. It has a long history as the capital and royal residence for the Electors and Kings of Saxony, who for centuries furnished the city with cultural and artistic splendour. The city was known as the Jewel Box, because of its baroque and rococo city centre.

  ***

  I had initially travelled the long rail journey from the French port of Calais primarily to follow up on the information Dr. Briggs had supplied (in his latest letter) concerning a possible German manufacturer of the poison that had taken my husband’s life. Secondarily in spite of the extensive damage from allied aerial bombing I hoped to take what remained of the famed beauty of this city.

  From the moment I left my passenger carriage (being one in a long train of many) on the Deutsche Reischbahn (loosely translated) the German National Railway train I had journeyed on across Europe I found I was now making my way through a cavernous, cold and certainly much deserted Dresden Hauptbahnhof or main railway station.

  An unpleasant conclusion was starting to form in my mind that with each step I took that I was entering a terribly bleak, and disturbingly uncertain world. One of bitterness over the conditions of hyperinflation... total devastation... mass starvation... homelessness... and general political upheaval all the result of a futile war.

  Stopping to ask someone I took to be a Bahnhof porter or station porter in broken German for directions to my hotel I found that it was only a short distance from the train station. I casually remarked in passing that it would then be more expedient for me to walk there instead of hiring transportation.

  The answer I received in turn was an emphatic “fraulien wares sicherer fur Ihr Hotel anstatt zu Fußfahren” with what little German I could understand his answer informed me it would be in my best interests to signal a taxi to stop and take me and my luggage to my destination.

  While at home planning my journey I had come to overhear rumours, read in foreign newspapers stories of ‘Deutschlands Niederlage!’–‘Germany in defeat!’ and see pictures of a down trodden and defeated population accompanying the news accounts.

  Men, women and children all mutely standing together in endless lines or queues to obtain the staples of life from outdoor soup kitchens. Their resigned and endless waiting resulting in only one meagre daily meal consisting of stale bread and a thin soup.

  This dreadful reality was played out before me city block after city block during my short ride from the station. The sight of lost, pale and pallid faces that passed on each side of the passenger windows of the taxi had persuaded me when I arrived to stay at my hotel and venture out only when necessary.

  Although only six years had passed since the end of the War most of Dresden was still spiritually and structurally devastated and in ruins. It felt as if its residents... long weary of battles won or lost had given up all hope of ever rebuilding their own lives and rebuilding the life of their once beautiful city.

  Chapter 22

  Upon my arrival at the Hotel zum Nussbaum (a modest guesthouse situated in the quiet residential suburb of Briesnitz) and while confirming my reservation I was grateful to hear that the Rezeption Schreiber or front desk clerk spoke German accented English. This would make the task I had come to this city for far easier to undertake.

  Hoping to maintain my anonymity for as long as I was able to when he requested...”and sign your full name here please Fraulein” while registering I again gave my last name as Morstan.

  I thought it wise still not to use my married last name or Irene Adler (the name I had used while in Johannesburg) on the chance there were those in Germany who had read translated editions of the Strand Magazine and could make some possible association to either name.

  ***

  The chemical and pharmaceutical sector came to Dresden at the end of the 19th century. There is P and W Verpackungen and Metzger Chemische (manufacturers of mustard gas and ricin). The Sächsisches Serumwerk Dresden (Saxon Serum Plant, Dresden), owned by a major British drug manufacturing company, a world leader in pharmaceutical production. Another traditional producer is Arzneimittelwerke Dresden (Pharmaceutical Works, Dresden).

  Herr Albrecht Metzger - Director of Metzger Chemisch located at 437 Grunaer Strasse was born, raised and educated in Dresden Germany. He had served in the army in the First World War as a Captain in the 3rd Landwehr division.

  ***

  “Guten Morgen... Bitte entschuldigen Sie... please my apologies... Good morning Fraulein Morstan... my name is Albrecht Metzger and I am the director of Metzger Chemisch. Welcome to the company and also to the city of Dresden.”

  Chapter 23

  The man who had provided me with my invitation and was now formally greeting me at the front entrance I would have to describe as being both charming and hospitable. He was a little above average in height and of a thin build and features.

  With short sandy brown hair that was starting to turn grey and arresting glacier blue eyes I thought him to be between 40 to 45 years of age.

  Despite wearing a smartly tailored business suit as one would expect the director of a chemical company to be Herr Metzger retained and displayed a distinct military presence about him.

  As we were making our way in from the entrance through the lobby then while ascending a broad stair case leading to an airy carpeted hall that would take us to his spacious office he commented to me.

  “You have arrived at just the right time Fraulein Morsten... breakfast (I hope you have not already eaten) has already been served and now that I have your company it will be a much more pleasant meal.”

  Entering the administrative area of the company he directed me towards a dinette table already set for two... the table (with two chairs) being thoughtfully located near to a wide ceiling to floor window offering a panoramic morning (undamaged) view of the city.

  The pleasant aroma of the meal awaiting us is known of in Europe as a continental breakfast. While sitting down and before eating... somehow feeling that I should set the course and pace of the morning appointment I began with “this is certainly an unexpected pleasure Herr Metzger. I will certainly try to ask only a few questions and not take up too much of your time.”

  Smiling at my polite opening comment as he poured my first cup of coffee the director graciously replied “Please do not feel that you must rush off Fraulein... my company leaves me to myself during the morning and only makes great demands of me in the afternoon.”

  “Besides I found your letter to be most compelling and I will certainly try to share with you all that I know as to how our company manufactures castor oil and medicinal ricin.”

  Passing the now filled cup with saucer to me he asked “do you take milk and sugar?”
/>
  The leisurely meal in the warm morning sun lit office was enjoyed by us both in an atmosphere of mutual and comfortable silence.

  It was only when I thought it an appropriate moment during the course of breakfast that I chose to pose a few of what I thought to be of general interest questions... this had been my subtle way of testing the waters.

  Hoping that the director’s guard might now be lowered a little and while appearing to fix my attention on only buttering another piece of toast for myself I casually brought up one of my major concerns.

  Trying to sound nonchalant and not really too interested I inquired “and what is done with the waste ‘mash’ material after the castor oil is produced and the medicinal ricin is extracted?”

  With that question the director unexpectedly put down his fork and knife and gave me an expression that he had suddenly been taken unaware.

  First composing himself while slowly picking up his fork and knife then resuming the meal... without being looked at or spoken to directly... I found I was now confronted with the somewhat cold tone of voice and unexpected display of military authority the type an officer only employs when redressing a subordinate.

  “If you do not mind my asking Fraulein Morsten (here he paused) how did you become interested in ricin in the first place?”

  Knowing that this subject would surface soon after my arrival at the chemical company with the scenario I had created in my mind while on the long rail journey from Calais to Dresden I began...

  ***

  Of course while anticipating this situation I originally reasoned rather than launch into some long and elaborate explanation instead I entertained the thought of setting a simple but effective trap using thinly disguised terrible events I had gone through with John as a lure.

  With the trap baited then sprung and escape quite impossible I would then confront the guilty party with the gathered facts. This plan was to have unfolded in aid of quickly extracting a full confession and an admission of guilt.

  ***

  But as in Johannesburg I did not wish to put at risk or damage any possible source of information with such an audacious plan.

  With what I had just experienced I decided on a safer approach. That being the ‘uncle’ I had mentioned in my inquiry letter who had died in hospital of an inoperable tumour and I had only come to learn of ricin and its ability to specifically cure damaged tissue after.

  But (to myself) I hoped that during the course of the morning visit I might inadvertently learn more of the sinister nature of ricin.

  Chapter 24

  Appearing to be somewhat placated with my reply the director regained his composure and sincerely replied “My condolences to you Fraulein”...then after a short pause while placing his coffee cup back down on its saucer he announced “when you have finished breakfast we shall begin the tour.”

  With the morning meal ended we got up from the table and together left his office. After a short walk through the administrative wing of the building and lastly passing through a set of double doors I in the company of the director had left a quiet and hushed atmosphere and now found ourselves standing on the very busy, noisy and extensive factory floor that was the heart of Metzger Chemisch.

  Herr Metzger stood silently and slightly behind me to my right while I took in and was held in captivation and awe of the industrious activity of uniformed company employees and the considerable automated mechanical wonders and the sounds they made that was taking place all around me.

  Interrupting my obvious amazement the director pointed to the far end of the factory saying over the automated din “Come Fraulein... we shall start at the beginning.”

  For the next hour during my guided tour the director would stop and indicate to me the various points of interest of the manufacturing process.

  Starting as to where the castor beans entered the process... how they were crushed to make the very distinctive smelling castor oil then onto where and how the ‘mash’ was processed to make (what the director referred to as) medicinal ricin.

  The one part of the large industrial process that I could follow and understand in this hive of personal and automated activity was the steady overhead metal conveyer parade from left to right of small clinking brown glass bottles.

  Their progress (along with the distinctive sound they made) stopping at a station only long enough to be filled with a liquid... which I assumed to be either of a medicinal or therapeutic nature... once full... a cap was twisted on... a label applied and then the now full bottle with the others continued on its way.

  Finally returning to where we had first started the tour the director turned in my direction and displaying the radiant pride a parent has for their exceptional child while reading my obvious expression, reacted to it by smiling then commenting “Impressive yes?” I admit that I was spellbound with what I had been shown.

  But then the clues that had brought me to Germany and to where I was now I found were going in two separate directions.

  I asked myself what undisclosed part of the factory was the ricin that was of the deadly poisonous nature being produced and where had the mustard gas (used in the war) that had brought me here in the first place been manufactured?

  I waited and watched the grand pharmaceutical process continue for a few more minutes fully expecting to be invited to visit another part of the factory... when instead the only invitation I received was a final non-committal “do you have any questions Fraulein Morstan?”

  To Herr Metzger’s considerable surprise I returned “yes I do.” It was something I had read in Dr. Briggs letter and seen labelled on barrels during the tour that I thought out of place that prompted me to ask “what does your company use acetone for?”

  Displaying a similar reaction to the one I had seen at breakfast... but without the demonstration of cold military authority he calmly but unconvincingly replied (to me) “It is used merely as a solvent to clean machinery.”

  Chapter 25

  Returning to the hotel after my morning appointment at Metzger Chemisch and while requesting my room key I was thankful to discover that in spite of my (no doubt widely anticipated) visit there were noun addressed envelopes awaiting my return.

  Later during dinner that evening (the meal I ordered was rump steak or as we in the United Kingdom would know as roast beef served with various sides such as potato wedges and vegetables) while in the company of several other hotel dinner guests seated in the dining room I tried to make the two pieces of the puzzle I had acquired so far fit together.

  Thinking to myself... while being aware of the low and quiet voices engaged in German dinner conversations carrying on at the other tables around me... that on the one hand I had located a manufacturer of delft porcelain that conceivably could have produced the blue bead which delivered the fatal poison and now a very potential source of the same poison that had ended John’s life. But as of yet there was no way and no one to connect them.

  Realizing that my investigation here was now at an end and noticing an alarming rise in social, political and military unrest that was starting to grip the population of the city of Dresden as well as the rest of Germany I thought it wise to leave this part of Europe and make my way by train back to the port of Calais... then home again to London.

  In spite of experiencing some minor inconveniences with customs officials regarding my pass port while crossing national borders by train I expected to pick up where I had left my life when I returned.

  However a week later when I resumed my volunteer duties there was an unexpected difference as to how I was welcomed back.

  Patricia McLean one of the senior members of the Fawcett Society... also a member of Sinn Féin... Irish for “ourselves” or “we ourselves”(being an Irish republican political party), who had campaigned against the waging of the Boer War and the usage of conscription in the First
World War was the first to draw unexpected and certainly unwanted interest regarding the nature of my lengthy absence.

  She had caught me off guard when she stopped in front of me and unexpectedly asked “and Mary how was your trip to Johannesburg and Dresden?”

  While gauging the reactions of the others around me who may have just overheard this and trying to construct a plausible answer that would deflect attention away from what was just said I looked at Patricia and I began to entertain a most improbable series of connections.

  The rather austere and plainly dressed woman now standing before me... I knew to be a vocal supporter of the Social Democratic Federation and the Independent Labour Party. In 1906 she joined the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies and was imprisoned twice in Holloway gaol.

  She became frustrated with the lack of progress the organization was making when she joined the more radical Women’s Social and Political Union.

  This last point set me thinking that with her past record of incarceration, unpopular views concerning conscription and present Irish political affiliation could she in some way have come to be associated with Willem Bastiaan van Steenwyk, Marius Bakeberg and Albrecht Metzger.

  If true was this the possible motivation that had caused her to ask me (or been instructed to ask) such an out of place question.

  Chapter 26

  Not having access to what John had referred to as a wealth of useful information... I would have to forge links or make connections with only the information I had acquired so far and had available to me.

  Although I did not have enough ‘straw’ to make many bricks with yet... I felt that I had sufficient enough to begin.

  The first common fact or event (as far as I understood) that connected all four had been their individual participation or involvement for whatever reasons, personal beliefs or financial gains to be made in the Great War